Why am I here?

Last Updated on Monday, 03 October 2011 09:22 Monday, 03 October 2011 09:08

Sunday morning in Midsummer, and  I am free from responsibility.

A thin rain is falling, seagulls calling over the house, and I am free to go in search of God.

So here I am again in this little Wesleyan chapel on the edge of the town, wondering why.

What am I doing here, among these waifs and strays?  Is God to be found here, among these few, the faithful, the ancient, the lonely, the socially inept?                                          

Am I like them, flotsam and jetsam, beached up here by the passing of time and tide?                                  

Am I as dated, as tired, as dutiful?

Why have I come back here, to this desolate chapel, melodies no-one knows played doggedly , as a matter of principle, irrespective.., the singing  thin and  reedy, the sermon sweet, vague and interminable, portmanteau prayers around the globe.

No style, no skill, no energy, no conversation.  Why am I here?

And why is it that again and again God catches me here - catches me out, superficial and ashamed, laughs at me, enlightens me, moves me and summons me to life again?

Why do I always leave a place so apparently devoid of jubilation full of jubilation?

I go home through the thin rain and life is good.